


Hollywood Tragedy

by ADisgrace



Category: My Candy Love
Genre: 1920s, American setting, Crimes & Criminals, Detective Noir, Gen, Golden Age Hollywood, Murder, Murder Mystery, Organized Crime, Prohibition, Speakeasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 04:24:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11982075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADisgrace/pseuds/ADisgrace
Summary: A Hollywood starlet is murdered, and everyone's a suspect.





	1. The Body

Lysander sits behind his desk drinking bad coffee and re-reading last night's paper. He has time to kill this morning so he glances over the headlines; a train wreck out east, a spate of burglaries over in Fairfax, but the big news is a local business, Erinyes Industries, is being investigated for ties to the mob.  
  
He doesn't get a chance to read the article when Rosalya comes to the office door, looking grim. "There's an Officer Nathaniel Pascal here to see you."  
  
Officer Pascal strolls in wearing his LAPD uniform and looking even worse for wear than Rosa. He sits himself in front of Lysander and before he can be offered something the drink, his eyes start watering. "My sister was murdered last night and I need you to investigate."  
  
Lysander, taken aback, starts to offer his condolences, but Nathaniel interrupts him. "I know about your reputation as a detective from your days on the force, and if I hire you, your investigation doesn't have to be bound by the limits of the law." Nathaniel looks young, definitely a rookie cop, and he's already this jaded. Though having your sister killed might do that to you.  
  
Lysander leans forward across the desk, "Tell me about your sister. What happened to her."  
  
Nathaniel reaches into to his pocket and pulls a photo of his sister from his wallet. He doesn't need to say her name aloud for Lysander to know who she is. Amber Pascal, the Hollywood actress. Lysander doesn't head to the movies much,  but even he's seen her in a few things. She's a big name now, and her roles have only been getting bigger and more high profile. Or they were, at least.  
  
Nathaniel clears his throat and attempts to steady himself. "My father found her dead in her home last night. The police say she had bruises on her back and the back of her arms, and that she died," his breath hitches, "from a blow to the head. They haven't found the murder weapon."  
  


* * *

  
Lysander journeys to the scene of the crime, an luxurious apartment in a nice area of town. There he finds Francis, Amber's father, standing in the corridor outside the open door to Amber's home. He's a well dressed man, immaculately groomed, with a fancy watch on his wrist. Clearly Amber's money wasn't all from showbiz.

  
"Lysander Ainsworth, Private Investigator, I was hired by your son," Lysander begins, handing over a business card. He gets straight to the point, he never was one to dally, "May I ask you about what you saw last night ?"  
  
Mr. Pascal nods solemnly and goes into the story. "Amber and I were to have dinner here last night but when she didn't answer the door I got out my key and I found her." His voice cracks recounting how he discovered his daughter's lifeless body dead the floor. "It's a mess in there, the LAPD say it looks like a staged robbery because nothing's been taken."  
  
They can't go inside Amber's house, police orders, but they can look inside. Papers and documents are scattered everywhere, and there's a large bloodstain in front of the sofa. It's huge, there's no way anyone could have saved Amber from death, even if they found her earlier.  
  
"I'm so glad you're investigating, Mr. Ainsworth, I don't trust the police." What an odd thing for the father of an officer to say.  
  
Lysander quickly changes the subject and continues on with his inquiries. "Do you know of any of your daughter's associates ? Anyone who could possibly have information that could help ?"

Lysander prepares his notebook as Francis speaks. "There's a few friends I know of, Li Tao, the actress and a uhh Capucine ... something."  
  
Lysander quickly scribbles down the names in his notebook and files it away in his jacket pocket. "Thank you for all your help Mr. Pascal."  
  


* * *

  
Lysander walks the rain-soaked streets and stops off at a payphone. He calls the office and asks Rosalya to find the phone numbers and addresses for Li and Capucine. Once done he buys the morning paper from a newsboy on the street corner.  
  
It doesn't come as a surprise to see that Amber's murder makes the front page. It doesn't tell him anything he doesn't already know, it doesn't so much as mention the manner of her death, but he reads it with keen interest all the same. He does, however, learn a bit more about her career. She got started in vaudeville before moving on to cinema, and once starred alongside Rudolph Valentino. The rest is reactions from the world of film, a few shocked remarks from fellow stars and industry bigwigs, the largest of these paragraphs is devoted to a Mr. Faraize, a producer and director who works for the same studio Amber was contracted to. Lysander's seen that name before, rolling on screen before a film starts.  
  
The article mightn't give him much new info, but he notes the name of the journalist, Peggy Morel.  


* * *

  
Peggy Morel's office is on the third floor of the L.A Sun building, and a large window takes up practically the a whole wall. On a regular day it would probably fill the room with bright California sunlight, but it's a gloomy day and the window only serves as a view to the grey raining clouds. As for the windowless walls, they're covered floor to roof in filing cabinets. It's unbearably claustrophobic, even the window doesn't help.  
  
Peggy sits at her desk and motions for Lysander to take a seat in front of her. The chair is old and stiff and aggravates an old injury.  
  
"I need to know everything you've got on the Amber Pascal murder." Lysander's known and worked with Peggy for long enough to know that pleasantries are unnecessary. Peggy prefers it when everyone lays their cards on the table, readily sharing information.  
  
Peggy leans back in her chair, she has a glint in her eye. "I tell you everything and I'll get an exclusive with you when you solve this, right ?"  
  
"Naturally." Lysander appreciates her confidence in him. To his credit, he doesn't have many unsolved cases. Just one. Neither he nor the LAPD succeeded in figuring which mobster gave him that career ending bullet to the shoulder  
  
"Well then," Peggy begins with a gleeful smile, "rumours are floating around that Miss Pascal liked to drink at that speakeasy over on Blake Street. "  
  
_That speakeasy_. Lysander knows it well, the barkeep has proved helpful in many cases before this. He's happy to help as long as nobody interferes with his business and for all Lysander's sense of truth and justice, he has better things to worry about than to pay attention to black market booze and bootlegging.

"And get this," Peggy says, sitting up straight, "there's talk that this was mob related. Her father is high up in Erinyes Industries."  
  
It all clicks. If the business was being investigated for its links to the mob, did that mean Francis was in league with the mob ? No wonder he didn't trust the police. Could he have double crossed them and got his daughter killed ? Did he owe the mob money ? If so, his daughter had quite the fortune that he'd inherit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not American nor have I ever been there, much less in the 1920's, please roll with it.  
> The surnames, barring Ainsworth, are my own invention because the story necessitated their use.  
> I don't know how many women got to write front page articles back in the 20's but oh well.  
> If you don't know, vaudeville was a form of variety entertainment back before cinema took off.  
> Back in the day you'd be contracted to a studio to make however many films, which is why Amber is/was


	2. The Investigation

The speakeasy on Blake street is hidden behind an unremarkable black door down an alleyway. Passersby ignore it every day and only those who know what goes on inside ever stop and linger.

Lysander knocks on the door once, twice, three times before the barkeep opens the door and leads him down into the dimly lit basement bar. Castiel, who runs the place, has been a source of information many times before, and if he knows something now, Lysander is sure to hear it.  
  
Lysander takes a seat on a bar stool, while Castiel assumes his position behind the bar and begins cleaning glasses. Castiel offers him a drink, but Lysander declines. He'll be no of use to the case if he gets a foggy head.  
  
Lysander removes his notebook from the pocket of his trench coat and prepares to take notes. "Have you seen Amber Pascal around here lately ?"  
  
"She stops by fairly often," Castiel says, nodding, "Shame what happened to her." Despite her fame Amber could count on her fellow patrons' silence. To admit to seeing her there was to admit to their own illegal activities.  
  
"When was the last time she you saw her here ?"  
  
Castiel sets a glass down as he pauses to think.  "Maybe a night or two before she died ? She was celebrating, showing off and buying people drinks. She said they were making a script of hers into a movie."  
  
Lysander hastily writes everything Castiel said into his notebook. This is the first he's heard about a script.  
  
"Oh and another thing," Castiel begins, his voice going up as he recalls something, "There's a guy hanging around that night, getting a little too friendly with Amber. She was having none of it though."  
  
"Can you describe him ?" Lysander writes down the man's characteristics as Castiel mentions them; blond hair that was long for a man, foreign, light coloured eyes, muscular...  
  
Could this mystery man have been so enraged by Amber's rejection of him that he committed the ultimate sin ? Lysander's not prepared to rule out any possibility.  
  
Lysander lays his card on the bar, "If you see him again or hear anything, please call me."  
  
Castiel's earlier mention of Amber's script intrigues him, he'll have to pay a visit to her studio. But first he has someone to see.

* * *

  
  
Capucine Carré's apartment is small and modest, but the delicate touches in the decor show it's a well loved home. It's immaculately clean, apart from the tissues covering the coffee table.

  
Capucine is distraught, her eyes are bloodshot and her nose has been rubbed red raw. She's been at it so long that she's crying without tears now.  
  
She bawls, telling Lysander how she met Amber when they were just kids in school. They sat beside each other in English class and Capucine would share her notes with Amber who never bothered to read the book they were reporting on.  
  
Capucine has a solid alibi for the night of the murder; she was working. So Lysander doesn't stay long, only pausing to ask for Li's number; it isn't easy tracking down numbers belonging to celebrities, even ones from yesteryear.

Gracious, despite her trauma, Capucine allows Lysander to call and arrange an appointment with Li from her telephone. He recognises the voice on the end of the line from a few films he's seen long ago, although this time the voice sounds eager. Li wants to see him soon.

* * *

 

Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer's lot is massive, with building facades, sets, and offices going on for miles.  Hundreds of people work here, maybe even thousands, all of them working to create the glitz and glamour one sees on screen.  
  
Hardly knowing where to start, Lysander begins with the entrance building and speaks to the secretary. The secretary, a polite and proper young woman, does her best to remain professional despite the horror of Amber's death. Her face turns sombre when Lysander tells her the purpose of his visit, but she's helpful all the same, directing him to an assistant who frequently aided Amber.  
  
It takes him a while to make his way there, getting lost in a maze of sets, but eventually Lysander finds himself in front of Violette, the assistant Amber had worked with a lot. She too begins to cry when Lysander mentions his investigation.  
  
"What did you do for Amber ?" Lysander asks.  
  
With the back of an ink-stained hand, Violette wipes the outer corners of her eye. "I'm a personal assistant here, I help a lot of stars, but Amber especially.  I ran her errands, took her calls, helped her rehearse her scripts, those sorts of things." Violette's voice was soft to begin with, but now it begins to shake too. "It's not what I pictured I'd be doing when I started working for the studio.." her voice trails off, but quickly perks back up again. "But I was lucky to have known Amber."  
  
Violette begins to weep all the more, and she needs to take a seat to continue. "What can I do?"  
  
Lysander readies his notebook and takes a seat next to her. "Was Amber worried about anything or anyone, did she have any run-ins on set or with a fan, perhaps?"  
  
Violette shakes her head gently. She looks helpless. "No, nothing at all." Violette stops, and leans backwards with her head against the wall, desperate to think of anything."She did s- I don't think it matters, but she did say her friends were jealous of her."  
  
Quickly, Lysander writes in his notebook. That titbit could be of some use. "One more thing," he asks, do you know anything about a script Amber wrote ?"  
  
Violette sits up straight again, her voice abrupt, "I haven't heard anything about that, you should ask Mr. Faraize."

* * *

 

 

Mr. Claude Faraize is one of the biggest names in Hollywood. As a director, producer, and head of MGM, he's responsible for many of the world's most famous films. Despite his authority and success, he's a rather nervous fellow, his hands shaking when Lysander greets him. He was happy to speak to Lysander at once, cancelling his appointments and ready to do anything help solve the murder.  
  
He doesn't strike Lysander as a usually talkative man, but Mr. Faraize speaks at length about what a tragedy this is and how the world is worse off for having lost Amber.  When Lysander inquires about the script, he has even more to say.  
  
"I never knew she could write like that,"  Mr. Faraize begins, his voice quiet and wistful , "it was beautiful. It was about a young woman standing up for herself after so many heartaches. She was going to star in it too."  
  
Amber was always known for her femme fatale roles. To Lysander it seems she would have been playing against type. What a treat that would have been to see.

* * *

 

When Lysander returns to his office, Li Tao is already waiting for him. She's sitting in the chair in front of his desk, her legs crossed, as she removes a cigarette from her bag. She goes to light it, but remembers her manners at the last moment, "Do you mind if I smoke ?"  
  
"Not at all, go ahead." Lysander readies a pen and his notebook as the already dingy room fills with smoke. Truthfully, he doesn't like anyone smoking in his space, but it doesn't help to get off on the wrong foot with a potential informant.  
  
"May I ask, what was your relationship like with Amber ?" Lysander asks, his pen already touching paper.  
  
Li exhales, a cloud of smoke separating them on either sides of the desk. "We were friends, colleagues."  
  
Lysander adopts an even kinder tone than usual, it pays to appear casual when asking difficult questions. "I've heard you were jealous of her, is that true ?"  
  
"Of course," Li takes it in her stride, not batting an eyelid, and speaks candidly, "I haven't been getting many roles lately, and Amber is, _was_ , more popular than ever. Of course I was jealous, but that doesn't mean I killed her."  
  
Lysander, for all he's seen, is taken aback. If he didn't suspect Li before he certainly does now. Are the guilty aware how guilty they look ? Is that why they seek to nip assumptions in the bud before anyone even has time to make them ?  
  
Lysander clears his throat and changes the subject. "An what about Miss Capucine Carré, was she jealous of Amber ?"  
  
Li laughs, dry and sarcastic, her long black hair bouncing as she does so. "A switchboard operator hanging around Hollywood's bright new thing, what do you think." Li rises from her seat and stand over Lysander, looking over him. "I'm not accusing, but Amber was going from strength to strength and had a lot less time for Capucine lately. Make of that what you will."  
  
Lysander leads Li out of the office, holding the door for her and watches as she exits through the reception, and down the stairs onto those dreary streets, her shadow following behind her.  
  
He's about the return to his office when Rosalya stops him. He's had three calls while he was away, all of the Nathaniel, looking for an update. He takes the call in his office, and Nathaniel has a lot to ask, and just as much to answer for.  
  
Lysander informs him that he's been following up a few leads, he leaves it vague, enough to satisfy him without giving false hope or getting ahead of himself. Nathaniel sounds relieved to hear there's been progress.  
  
"I've been meaning to ask, what's your father's connection to the mob."  
  
There's a long sigh on the other line, Nathaniel sounds tired. "I know my father isn't the greatest man, but I don't think he has anything to do with Amber's death, I'd tell you if he did." Nathaniel pauses, and his voice sounds apologetic when he finally does speak. "My father is of high standing in the mob, no one would cross him."  
  
Lysander decides not to push the matter further, and moves to another question. "Did you know about this script your sister wrote ?"  
  
"Amber ?" Nathaniel sounds confused, "I had no idea. Amber wasn't a writer."  
  
He isn't the first person to have thought that.  
  
"Thank you for your time officer."  
  
Lysander hangs up and is about to call MGM and arrange another appointment with Mr. Faraize when Castiel, the barkeep calls. Castiel, unfortunately, is the bearer of bad news; the man seen flirting with Amber was picked up by the police the night of her murder. Castiel doesn't know what he was arrested for, but apparently it was severe enough that he's being deported.  
  
Lysander is ready to hang up, frustrated at another dead lead when Castiel speaks again.  
  
"I remembered something and thought I should tell you. Amber was in here about a week before she died with another woman. She gave Amber something, I don't know but it looked like a book."  
  
Lysander quickly hurries to find a pen, "Can you tell me what she look like ?"  
  
As Castiel describes her, a mental picture form in Lysander's mind, and he knows exactly who he's talking about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagined Mr. Faraize in a sort of Cecil B. DeMille role, and Li as the sort of Anna May Wong of her universe, albeit a fading one


	3. The Killer

Lysander arrives at MGM studios, more determined than ever, and fully prepared with a plan of attack. He's barely slept and he's running solely on caffeine and determination. His mind has been racing a mile a minute since Castiel called last night, giving him the final pieces of this puzzle. They all fit together. Well mostly, he has a few questions left to ask.  
  
Inside the main building he wanders through hallways lined with office doors, waiting chairs, and people bustling about. The corridors are decorated with photographs of various glitzy stars who have graced audiences screens in the films shot here.  
  
Walking through those same halls, he crosses a number of people, some of whom he's certain are film stars, they're too glamorous not to be.  Others seem tired and overworked, most of them, in fact. One of those overworked employees is Violette, looking fatigued and sporting bags under her eyes.  
  
"Hello again, Ms. -" Lysander pauses, his memory catching up with him, "Violette, wasn't it ? How have you been keeping ?"  
  
Violette turns her face to the floor, her eyes to her feet, "I'm alright. As well as I can be..."  
  
Lysander gives her a smile. "This must be a very hard time for you."  
  
Violette doesn't make a sound, just gives a weary nod.  
  
Lysander speaks again."I have an appointment with Mr. Faraize but it appears he's been delayed, would you mind waiting with me ?" He gestures to one of the chairs lining the corridor and takes a seat.  
  
Violette sits down next to him, resting a bundle of documents on her lap, and waits for him to say something.  
  
Lysander turns to her, still sympathetic but sadder now. "It's hard I know, but grief eases with time. It never passes, it just becomes less suffocating."  
  
Violette closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Her shoulders stiffen. "I hope so" she says as she exhales.  
  
Lysander rests his hand over hers, gripping it slightly. "You and Amber must have gotten close, assisting her here."  
  
"I suppose."  
  
"Close enough to have gone to the speakeasy on Blake with her ?" Lysander's tone doesn't come across as that of a question.  
  
Violette's gaze narrows, and she leans away from him in her chair. "I don't drink."  
  
Lysander smiles. "You don't drink." A beat. "But you don't deny going there with her."  
  
Violette leaps from her seat, throwing off Lysander's hand, but he catches her by the wrist. The ink he saw last time is still there, but this time he sees it better, up close. What he thought was blue ink is actually a bruise darkening and turning black and blue.  
  
Lysander speaks slowly, realisations breaking through to him. "Those bruises on the back of Amber's arms.. she's taller than you. You would've needed to knock her to the ground before you hit her over the head." No murder weapon was found, but it's not uncommon for a killer to take it with them and dispose of it.  
  
Violette cries and shakes her head as she pulls her arm away and clutches it to her chest. "I didn't kill her."  
  
Lysander's tone is firm now, as he walks towards Violette who keeps pulling away, backing up against the wall behind her. "The barkeep saw you. That 'book' he saw, I'm guessing it was the script she handed in. That's what you were looking for when you dug through her papers."  
  
"No no no." Violette shakes her head all the more wildly now, tears flinging from her eyes. The scene is beginning to attract attention and executives peer from behind their office doors, looking on in horror. The situation playing out in front of them is more dramatic than anything they've ever put to screen.  
  
"Accept it Violette, I've already spoken to Mr. Faraize today. I know you've submitted scripts before and never had them accepted. I know the one Amber submitted was yours."  
  
Violette crashes onto her knees and she's wailing now. She can't hide it when Lysander knows everything, she's got to explain herself. "She was supposed to help me.  She was supposed to pitch the film for me and say she'd star in the film _I_ wrote. But in the end she took credit for it." Violette is red in the face and her nose is dripping. "I didn't meant to kill her, I just snapped. I pushed her down and I grabbed the lamp off the table and.,."   
  
Lysander hears someone in one of the offices around him speaking on the phone frantically, presumably to the police. Violette doesn't seem to have hear it so he says nothing.  
  
"It was an accident, I didn't want her to die." Violette sniffles, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "I'm so sorry."  
  
Lysander crouches down to her level, onto his knees, and speaks to her face to face. "If your truly remorseful, Violette, you'll confess. Amber's family need to know the truth, and the police will go easier on you that way."  
  
Violette nods feebly. She doesn't run or tried to hide. She sits, weeping on the floor, knowing she'll have to face the music.  
 


End file.
